


Shrike

by Kit_Kat21



Series: WHSFA [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Married Couple, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: “Are we going to tell everyone tonight?” Jon asked, his lips still nearly on hers.“Don’t you think we should? I mean, I’m not going to be in the turkey hunt tomorrow and they’ll want to know why. Unless I am going to be in the turkey hunt-”“Absolutely not,” Jon swiftly cut her off with a frown as if Sansa hadn’t already made the decision by herself.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: WHSFA [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653388
Comments: 385
Kudos: 446





	1. Chapter 1

…

Jon collapsed onto the bed, feeling completely drained and exhausted; why though, he didn’t know. They didn’t drive – they took the train – and then Bronn had picked them up at the station to bring them to Winterfell, the Stark castle. Jon hadn’t really done _anything_ that day except sit on his ass. But maybe it was just the stress of traveling the day before Thanksgiving that had him so wiped.

No matter the cause, now that he was lying down, he definitely was ready to go right to sleep.

“Don’t forget to call your mom,” Sansa reminded him. “You promised her that you would call once we got here. The _minute_ we got here.”

When she came home for Christmas break from White Harbor School of Fine Arts during her first and only year at the school, Sansa had cleaned out her closet and dresser drawers of the clothes she no longer needed or wanted. One of the charities Catelyn devoted her time to held a massive clothing drive in the spring for the less fortunate and Sansa filled up plenty of boxes to donate.

Now, whenever she and Jon came to visit, there was plenty of room in the drawers for them both.

She unpacked both of their luggage now; never liking to live out of a bag, even if only for a few days. Jon grunted something from the bed that she wasn’t entirely sure was actually a word of any kind and she frowned at him though his eyes were closed and he couldn’t necessarily see it. She knew he could hear it.

“Jon, call your mother unless you want her to call here and my mom picks up. You know how those two can be. You’ll have both of them ganging up on you then.”

Jon grumbled again, but he began to move so Sansa felt she could resume unpacking. She carried both of their toiletry bags into the bathroom, smiling as Jon sat up with his cell phone to his ear.

“Hey, mom. We’re here.” Pause. “Yes, I ate on the train.” Pause. “An egg sandwich.” Another pause. “It’s actually pretty good on a train. I haven’t died from it yet.” Pause. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup. What about you and Arthur? How’s Lady?”

“Hi, Lyanna! How’s Lady?” Sansa called out from the bathroom.

“She’s fine!” Jon called his mom’s answer back to her.

As Jon continued talking with his mom, Sansa remained in the bathroom. She took her hair out from the braid she had put it in that morning for traveling and used her fingers to comb it and shake it out. She would leave her hair down for the rest of the evening. She then took her toothbrush and toothpaste from her toiletry bag and though they would be eating dinner in an hour, Sansa began to brush her teeth. She supposed she just wanted to feel refreshed after such a hectic day.

While she was doing so, Jon came into the bathroom and kissed the back of her head on his way past her. Sansa smiled through a foam of toothpaste and Jon went into the tiny closet that housed the toilet, closing the door partially behind him. A minute later, he stepped out, the toilet flushing behind him and he made sure the fly of his jeans was zipped. Sansa stepped to the side so he could wash his hands and he then stepped aside so she could lean over and spit out the paste and rinse her mouth out.

“Lady has already commandeered the spot in front of my mom’s fireplace and Ghost is not pleased,” Jon told her and Sansa laughed as she wiped her mouth free from lingering toothpaste.

And as soon as she was done, Jon leaned in for a kiss. Sansa lifted her arms to circle around his neck as Jon’s went around her waist, holding her close.

“Are we going to tell everyone tonight?” Jon asked, his lips still nearly on hers.

“Don’t you think we should? I mean, I’m not going to be in the turkey hunt tomorrow and they’ll want to know why. Unless I am going to be in the turkey hunt-”

“Absolutely not,” Jon swiftly cut her off with a frown as if Sansa hadn’t already made the decision by herself.

Sansa only smiled though. He had been so protective since the news two months earlier – hardly letting her even take out the trash without jumping up and asking her what she was doing. Instead of being angry or frustrated with him though, Sansa found it all incredibly sweet.

They hadn’t planned on this – not at all.

Getting married, yes. Oh, sure, there had been the “They’re way too young to get married” comment from more than one person, but none of their true, close friends or family were surprised in the least when Sansa was just nineteen and Jon was twenty-three and he proposed and they were married the following spring.

When they left Sunspear around the same time, there had been comments, too. “She’s leaving the SBC? Has she absolutely lost it?” “I bet her husband is forcing her to leave.” And on and on it went, but none of their true, close friends or family ever thought such things. They all knew that the couple had given Sunspear everything they had, trying so hard to make it work, but in the end, it just hadn’t. It had been so vastly different from anything they knew – and learned that they couldn’t learn to love it – and when an opportunity came for Sansa to dance in the ballet company in Shadow Tower, Jon’s hometown where his mom and stepdad lived and _very_ far, back up North, they both discussed it before leaping at it.

As Jon had told her, dancing in the Sunspear Ballet Company had been her dream, but sometimes, dreams changed and there was nothing wrong with that. They could do – _would_ do – anything Sansa wanted.

The Shadow Tower Company was much smaller and not nearly as prestigious, but it was so strange, in Sansa’s opinion. She was so happy there. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t loved SBC and wasn’t happy there, but in the company in Shadow Tower, she found herself actually laughing and smiling during classes and rehearsals. They all had fun together. They were all professionals and professional ballet was as serious as it got – no matter how small the company was – but they were able to have fun, too, and that was a balance that SBC never seemed to have.

And it certainly helped their happiness that Jon could actually write in Shadow Tower when his muse had laid, dead, for over a year in Sunspear.

This, though, was such a curveball thrown at them and they knew that everyone – family and friends included – would have plenty of thoughts and things to say about it. All Jon and Sansa could do was tell them the news and explain what they were going to do. They had had plans, yes, but as soon as they found out, they learned that plans didn’t mean anything because life always seemed to have its own ideas.

Sansa could and would dance for two more months. She would then have to sit out. She had already discussed this with the director of the Company and this was the agreement they had both come to. There had been no other way and Sansa both knew and understood that. The director also then made sure that Sansa knew – without a doubt – that her job within the company would be saved.

“You’re not the first dancer to have a baby,” he had told her when she had expressed her worries to him.

But ballet was still demanding – physically and mentally – and a pregnant ballerina just wasn’t possible. Sansa would go on leave and then be away for another six months after the baby was born before returning. Thankfully, she was married to a man who was able to work from home and could watch the baby when Sansa was working all hours, getting her body back to tip-top ballerina shape.

“The plan is still the same?” Sansa asked.

“Yes,” Jon confirmed. “I’ll call my mom and put her and Arthur on speaker so we can tell everyone at the same time.” He paused. “And hopefully, they’ll be happy for us.”

“They’ll be happy for us,” she confirmed, squeezing her arms, still around his shoulders. “They’ll ask about ballet and your writing and they’ll point out how young we are – just in case we forgot or don’t know-” Jon smiled at that. “-but they’re our family and of course they’ll be happy for us. The first grandchild for both families? They’re going to be _insane_ with happiness.”

Jon nodded. “They’ll be happy for us,” he echoed, needing to say it himself.

He leaned in for another kiss as the intercom on the wall in the bedroom turned on.

_“Sansa. Jon.”_ It was Catelyn from somewhere downstairs. _“Robb and Ygritte just got here and we’re going to be eating dinner in about ten more minutes.”_

Sansa gave him a kiss and left the bedroom to go to the intercom. “Thanks, mom. We’ll be right down,” she pressed the button and spoke into the speaker. She then turned to Jon and gave him a smile. “You ready?”

Jon took a deep breath and gave her a smile. “I’m ready.”

…

The knocking on the door stirred Jon from a deep sleep and when he peeled his eyes open, he saw the bedroom was still dark and Sansa was still sleeping next to him.

“What the Hell?” Jon muttered as he looked to the digital clock. It wasn’t even six yet and he was still so exhausted – both from traveling and then telling the family about the baby. Sansa had been right, of course. Everyone had been absolutely _insane_ with their happiness.

Yes, there had been the questions about Sansa’s ballet and Jon’s writing, but the happiness and excitement had outweighed any question or concern.

The celebration had gone into the night before Jon was practically pleading with them all that he and Sansa needed some sleep. And now, someone was knocking on their bedroom door at six in the morning and they didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

With a grumble, Jon pulled himself from the bed – Sansa not even moving or disturbed by the noise – and he went to open the door.

“What?” He yawned, his eyes squinting from the lamp that was on in the hallway.

“I brought camouflage for your face,” Rickon informed him, holding up a tub of face paint.

“What? Rickon, it’s six o’clock in the morning.”

“And the Turkey Hunt is in three hours. We have to get ready.”

Ned had immediately made changes to the rules he made every year for the Annual Stark Family Turkey Hunt – Sansa definitely would _not_ be participating today – and as the teams were made up, Jon and Rickon were paired together for this year.

Jon supposed he should have been expecting this. The Starks all took to the hunt seriously – Jon did, too, but he wasn’t quite on Rickon’s level.

He sighed. “Can you give me another hour? I just need a little more sleep,” Jon practically begged him.

Rickon paused for just a moment before shaking his head and shoving the tub of face paint into Jon’s hand. “No. You’re in the big leagues now, Jon. Get your face ready. And make sure you wear all black. I know you packed plenty of black to wear. We have a turkey to win.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first, I imagined, Sansa and Jon being older and she nearing the end of her ballet career before getting pregnant, but I decided I liked this way much more. And I tend to associate Hozier's music with this couple/world.
> 
> THANK YOU so much for reading this very random one-shot that I wasn't planning at all.


	2. Chapter 2

…

Overwhelmed wasn’t even the right word for how he was feeling at this precise moment and as a writer – a _professional_ writer – Jon Snow felt somewhat embarrassed that he couldn’t even think of the best word to describe himself.

He knew the Stark family knew a lot of people. A lot. After all, they were the Starks, one of the oldest, wealthiest and most influential families in all of Westeros. Of course they knew a lot of people and of course, a lot of those people would be at Ned Stark’s daughter’s engagement party. Sansa had whispered to him that she didn’t know more than half of the people here and that they had really come for her parents, but Sansa still smiled and shook everyone’s hand, thanking them for coming, accepting envelopes that they handed to her and being the picturesque daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark in high society.

Jon made sure he looked his best – with the help of his future father and brother-in-law. He wore a sharp, black suit, trimmed his beard and made sure his hair wasn’t _as_ long and he stood at Sansa’s side, shaking hands with everyone introduced to them – as if he had a shot in all seven Hells of remembering so many names – and thanked them for sharing that evening with them.

More than one person wanted to see Sansa’s engagement ring and his mom and Arthur had helped Jon buy it – he wanting something beautiful for Sansa, but not wanting to make himself go completely broke – and when Sansa saw it, she had cried and told him it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen. But as she held out her left hand for these people to see the diamonds, Jon tried to not dwell on the fact that these people were staring intently at the ring, silently judging it.

Not only were his future in-laws Ned and Catelyn Stark, but Catelyn was a Tully as well. Sansa’s grandfather was _the_ Hoster Tully, the real estate mogul who owned a chain of upscale hotels throughout Westeros, The Riverrun. Jon knew that. He knew all of that and he knew Hoster – having met him a couple of times at Winterfell – but there was something about the man that made Jon incredibly nervous; even more nervous than any of the Starks.

Sansa had always been incredibly close to her maternal grandparents, staying with her Grandpa Hoster and Grandma Minisa for summers when she was young. Jon didn’t doubt that they loved all of their grandchildren equally, but Jon also had the slightest feeling that Sansa was _slightly_ favored because she looked more Tully than the others. He knew it was probably bullshit, but it was what he had convinced himself of and nothing seemed to be able to tell him otherwise.

Maybe – no, not maybe. Without a doubt that was why Jon had a ridiculously high level of nervousness around Grandma and Grandpa. Even when both hugged him and congratulated them both and they handed Sansa their own envelope.

(Jon refused to think of how much money he and Sansa were receiving this evening from everyone.)

“And don’t forget your promise to me,” Hoster smiled before leaning in, kissing Sansa on the cheek.

“I won’t, I promise,” Sansa laughed.

Hoster shook Jon’s hand one more time with a smile and then went off towards the open bar. Jon looked to Sansa and she was still smiling, as she placed the envelope in the basket behind them with the others.

“When I was a little girl, I promised him that I would name my first born son after him. So hopefully, you’re alright with that.”

Jon smiled – feeling at ease again now that it was just the two of them and there seemed to be a short lull between well-wishers. His arms slid around her waist as Sansa’s went around his shoulders.

“That actually works out perfectly because I promised Arthur the same thing, but I didn’t specify first.”

That made Sansa laugh. “So Hoster for our first and Arthur for our second son?”

Jon didn’t smile that much. Everyone loved to point that out, but he was the first to admit it. He just thought he looked like a – slightly crazed – idiot when he smiled. But tonight, with Sansa at their engagement party, talking about their future children? This was the perfect time to look like a slightly crazed idiot, in his opinion.

“It sounds like we’re all set already,” Jon said and Sansa’s smile only seemed to grow as he leaned in and gave her a light kiss.

But then, the lull ended and more people came to congratulate them.

“Now, you’re still going to dance ballet, correct, dear? A husband shouldn’t change that.” A woman wearing a diamond tiara of all things – and she was way too old to be wearing something like that, in Jon’s opinion – asked Sansa once her inspection of the engagement ring was finished.

“Oh, of course I am,” Sansa said. “And Jon’s always been so supportive of my ballet. I’ve actually been exploring options outside of Sunspear.”

That made the woman gasp – obviously in horror. “You’re thinking of leaving the Sunspear company?” The woman’s eyes glanced over to Jon then and he felt himself stiffen, having no problem figuring out what this woman was obviously thinking.

Sansa easily caught the woman’s drift as well. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. Sunspear is obviously wonderful, but it’s not the only ballet company in the world.”

“I just hope that this is a decision _you_ are making,” the woman said, glancing to Jon again, and Jon’s body stiffened even tighter.

Sansa could feel it and she slid a hand onto Jon’s back. “How is Patrick doing?” She changed the subject.

“Oh,” the woman let out a laugh and waved her hand. “You know him. We gave him a sailboat for his twenty-fifth and he’s currently out there, finding himself.”

Jon refrained from tugging at his tie though he suddenly felt it slowly beginning to grow tighter around his neck and choking him. The woman was still going on and on about whoever the Hell Patrick was and Sansa was nodding, listening, being polite as always. Jon needed a beer and a cigarette, but he couldn’t just leave Sansa here on her own. What would these people think or say if Sansa’s fiancé just rudely walked away and left her alone?

But he had already checked himself out of this conversation – the woman’s opinion of Sansa’s future husband no secret to either of them – and his eyes scanned around the large family room where the party was held that evening. Caterers weaved in and out of the crowd with various trays of food and drinks. He spotted his mom and Arthur, speaking with Sansa’s Uncle Benjen and Ned then came up to join them, snagging a bruschetta toast from a passing tray.

He saw Sam and Gilly and Val and Pyp with Grenn standing at the fireplace, drinking and laughing about something. A little bit away, Dickon and Myrcella were standing together, looking at one of the paintings Mrs. Stark had displayed on the wall. Sansa’s siblings – Arya, Bran and Rickon – were all sitting on the couch, Rickon sitting in the middle and holding up a tablet as Arya and Bran leaned in to watch whatever they were doing. And by the bar, Jon could see Robb standing with Ygritte, she saying something as Robb ate one of the prosciutto wrapped asparagus spears, nodding his head as he listened.

Jon couldn’t wait for he, Sansa and their friends to have their own little engagement party. He was so thankful to the Starks for throwing such an extravagant party like this for him and Sansa – even if this was unnecessary, but Jon understood that Sansa was their first child to be engaged and even if she was the last, the Starks would still throw such a party – but Jon was more of a beer and pizza kind of guy and it didn’t matter what family he was marrying into. That was always who he would be.

Thank God he was marrying a woman who knew that and that woman loved him for who he was.

Finally, the woman left and Sansa and Jon were alone once again. He exhaled heavily and Sansa gave him a soft smile, turning towards him.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Jon just shook his head and he leaned in for a kiss. “You’re not responsible for what other people say or think. As long as you don’t think that your future husband is making you look away from Sunspear.”

  
Sansa rolled her eyes at that and it made Jon smile. He leaned in for another kiss.

“I need some fresh air,” he then told her.

“And I need to go get another drink,” Sansa nodded. “Meet me in ten?”

“In your room?” He smiled and she laughed, her cheeks turning that adorable shade of pink.

With one more kiss, Sansa then headed towards her brother, best friend and the bar and Jon headed for the back doors, being stopped every few moments with someone offering congratulations and a hand shake. As he passed his mom and Arthur, Lyanna leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

Some of the party goers were out on the brick back patio – with the comfort of torches to keep them warm – and again, Jon was stopped by people he had just met and couldn’t remember any of the names.

Thankfully, his destination seemed to be empty. The hedge maze was lit with solar lights every few feet and Jon paused just inside the entrance to pull a single cigarette from the inside of his suit jacket and a lighter. He had all but quit smoking, but sometimes – in situations of high stress – he couldn’t help, but give into the nicotine craving. He just hoped that being outside in the cooler air would help the smoke from settling into his clothes so Sansa or anyone else couldn’t smell it.

He sighed, exhaling the first drag, and continued on the gravel path, turning one way and then another, stopping occasionally to look at Mrs. Stark’s granite statue collection she had displayed among the foliage.

Stopping at the statue of Myrcella that had been purchased from Dickon, Jon took another drag.

Gods, he couldn’t wait to marry Sansa. He was excited for the planning and the wedding, but it was really just being married to her that he couldn’t wait for. He wondered if it would always be like this though as Sansa Stark’s husband – he didn’t know if she was taking his last name or not; having always some fancy event or party to attend. He assumed so and he knew he would always go without complaint; as long as he would have Sansa at his side. He knew marrying into this family came with certain obligations and expectations and though the Starks never acted as if they had more money than everyone else, the truth was, _they did_ and though he and his mom had never been hurt for money, this was a whole other world and Jon didn’t know how he would be in it.

Hearing the steps of gravel behind him, he turned and saw his future mother-in-law enter the section he was in, her own unlit cigarette in her hands. She stopped as soon as she saw him and he couldn’t help, but have his eyes widen at the sight of Catelyn Stark, holding an actual cigarette.

After a moment, she exhaled with a small smile. “Don’t tell my husband or Benjen.”

“Don’t tell Sansa.”

They exchanged smiles and he then held up the lighter, Catelyn coming to him so she could take it and light her own cigarette. Much like Jon had, she exhaled her first drag, tilting her head up towards the sky as she did it, seeming to do it with relief.

“I rarely do this,” she then told him. “I had smoked occasionally – social more than anything – but when Brandon died, I quit cold turkey and Ned quit his cigars. But sometimes… it just becomes too much and I need to get some fresh air.” She smiled at him and waved the cigarette. “Which I guess going to smoke in the fresh air kind of defeats the purpose.”

Jon smiled at that and took another drag. “It’s like that for you? Too much?”

He was surprised. Before she was a Stark, she was a Tully and the Tully family and their own wealth was nothing to scoff at either.

“It can be,” Catelyn answered honestly. “We all get overwhelmed whether you’re born into this or marrying into this. Some of these people we deal with and socialize with, they’re _exhausting_. It does help to have an amazing someone standing at your side though.”

That got a smile out of him and Catelyn smiled, too.

They both took drags from their cigarettes and exhaled at the same time.

“You’re already doing great, Jon,” she assured him.

Jon took a deep breath. “Thank you. I just don’t want to embarrass Sansa or any of you.”

Catelyn smiled, taking another puff from her cigarette. “Please, Jon. You’ve met all of my children. There’s nothing you can do that they haven’t already pulled.” His smile widened into a grin. “As long as you always show up to things like this, wearing something more than just your underwear, you’re already doing better than Rickon and Bran.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had ideas for this universe - without writing the sequel - so I think I just might add the random one-shots I write onto this story. THANK YOU very much for reading! I hope you like what I write for it.


	3. Chapter 3

…

“Okay.” Sansa capped her pen once she finished making the list Jon had just texted her. “For Jon, Sam is going to be his best man and he has asked Dickon, Renly and Loras to be groomsmen. He also asked Robb, Grenn and Pyp to be ushers. Everyone came back with yes.”

“I couldn’t imagine any of them saying no,” Catelyn smiled from where she was at the counter, slicing up a tomato for the lettuce, bacon and tomato sandwiches she was making for lunch.

“And Ygritte has said yes to being my maid-of-honor. I actually think Arya was _very_ relieved when I asked her if she would be alright, just being a bridesmaid.”

Catelyn laughed a little. “I’m sure she was. She would feel like maid-of-honor would have far too much responsibility. Was Ygritte excited?”

“She was very excited,” Sansa nodded with a smile. “Her answer included a few expletives.” 

“And your other bridesmaids?” Catelyn asked though she had a very good idea.

“Gilly and Val. I was trying to think of how I could have Myrcella and Beth involved and I think I want them to pass out programs and the little containers of bubbles.” Sansa uncapped her pan again to make a few more notes in her notebook.

Jon had teased her, asking if she was going to have a wedding binder, but Sansa was determined that she would be planning their entire wedding with just a pen and a spiral notebook. She was also going to buy only one or two wedding magazines. She knew it wouldn’t be exactly possible, but she wanted to keep this wedding as small as she possibly could.

She was well aware of what this wedding could morph into if she wasn’t vigilante. She was the daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark. She was the first Stark child getting married. She wouldn’t be surprised if a studio approached her parents, asking if they could broadcast the wedding for television.

(And that definitely would _NOT_ be happening.)

It was going to be one of the premiere social events in Westeros of the year though and her parents knew so many people. And Jon had already said that his mother wanted to invite quite a few people she knew in the publishing world.

This guest list could easily exceed four hundred people if they didn’t watch it.

The first two pages, besides the wedding party – now official – was the beginning of the guest list. Just looking over the names, Sansa sighed softly, not able to help herself. There were so many people already and she knew this list was only going to grow and she wouldn’t know most of the people added.

“Sansa,” Catelyn spoke gently, still at the counter, and Sansa turned her head to look at her. She gave her daughter a smile. “One thing at a time. Have you and Jon thought about colors yet?”

Sansa shook her head. “We started looking through the magazine I bought, but we couldn’t decide which of the suggestions we liked.”

Catelyn carried the two plates with the toasted sandwiches on them to the table, setting them down, and then went to the refrigerator for the jug of water. “Forget the magazine and whatever suggestions they make,” she advised. “What do you _two_ like?”

Sansa thought that over as she brought the plate closer to her. She picked up the sandwich and took a bit, she loving the sound of it crunching between her teeth. She looked to her phone when the screen lit up and she saw that Jon had sent her another text.

They had left their home in Sunspear for a few days – Sansa coming to Winterfell and Jon heading up to Shadow Tower to help his mom and his new stepdad, Arthur. Arthur was moving from his house next door into the Snow house and Sansa had offered to help as well.

“What can you body press?” Jon asked with a teasing smile.

Sansa gave him a look. “I hold my entire body weight on the tips of my toes. What can _you_ do?”

Jon had grinned at that, but had wisely not answered, before tugging her into his arms for a kiss.

“Is Arthur putting his home on the market?” Ned had asked.

“I’m not sure,” Sansa shook her head. “Right now, he seems to be keeping it.”

Sansa set the sandwich down so she could pick up her phone and smiled when she saw it was a picture. It was of Jon. His mom’s house didn’t have a backyard – but rather a brick courtyard – with the garage built separately, on the other side of the courtyard. Jon was in the courtyard with Ghost and Arthur and there was the biggest game of Jenga she had ever seen. The wooden block tower was as tall as Jon’s chest and as Arthur was studying the pieces, Jon was in the middle of carefully pulling one of the blocks out as Lyanna snapped the picture.

S: _This is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen!! We have to play it next time I’m there, too!_

She quickly saved the picture to her photo album as Jon typed a response.

J: _Arthur had this in his attic and never told me. I made sure he knew that I didn’t approve of his silence when a giant Jenga was involved. We should have this set up at our wedding reception._

Sansa smiled and then made sure to show her mom the picture, too.

“Oh, I love that,” Catelyn said and picked up her sandwich, but paused before taking a bite. “That isn’t a bad idea at all.”

“You don’t think so?” Sansa picked up her sandwich, too. “I can just imagine what yours and dad’s friends will think if there’s a giant Jenga game at the reception for people to play.”

“Sansa.” Still without taking a bite of the sandwich, Catelyn set it down again. “Who is getting married?” She asked. Sansa blinked at her, not answering. “Who is getting married?” She asked again.

Sansa swallowed though she hadn’t taken a bite or drink of anything. “Jon and I are getting married.”

“And it will do your stress levels a wonder if you remember that. This wedding isn’t about the Stark name or our friends or acquaintances. Your father and I are just two parents who are helping their daughter get married the way _she_ and her fiancé want to.”

Sansa thought on that for a moment and then exhaled a breath she had been holding in her lungs without even being aware she was.

“In addition to a giant Jenga, we were also talking about having a root beer float stand at the reception and a bonfire to roast marshmallows,” she revealed.

Catelyn picked up her sandwich again and took a bite, her own toast crunching. “It sounds like it will be an amazing party, which is exactly what a wedding and a reception should be. A big party.”

Sansa smiled at that and her chest felt so light. She hadn’t even realized that since Jon proposed and they seriously started making wedding plans that it had been tight.

But her mom was right. This wasn’t about her parents or everyone who would want to come to a Stark wedding so they could be _seen_. This was about her and Jon and all of _their_ friends were going to be there with them and it was going to be absolutely amazing.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next random installment, a pregnant Sansa will have to deal with an overprotective husband, an overprotective mother-in-law and Arthur lol Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

…

Sansa was grouchy today. She would be the first to admit it.

Her body ached, she was almost eight months pregnant and just felt so big and awkward and she was bored. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She was reading a book – _The Exorcist_ – and it was so good, but she had learned that she had had the strangest dreams during this pregnancy and though she hadn’t wanted to stop reading, she knew that she would have to if she ever wanted to sleep again.

She had cleaned the entire first floor of their house. Her mom and mother-in-law both called it “nesting” and it was perfectly normal. As Sansa’s due date crept closer, she wanted to make sure that hers and Jon’s house was more than ready for the arrival of their daughter. But she could only clean so much – and not on the second floor because Jon was writing up there and she didn’t want to disturb him – and now, she was standing in the kitchen, trying to decide what she could do now.

A month from now, she would know exactly what to do; or somewhat know what to do. Her daughter would be here and every moment of her time would then be devoted to her. Sansa was nervous, scared, but she was also so excited. She felt like she had been pregnant forever and she just wanted to finally hold her daughter. Seeing her on sonograms wasn’t good enough anymore.

But there was still a month to go – “And not a second before”, Jon had said to Sansa’s belly more than once – and right now, Sansa was bored and grouchy.

She wanted to do something. _Anything_.

With a sigh, it was so natural for her to just fall back to what she had done for her entire life. Gripping one of the counters, she slowly pushed herself onto her toes. Not the tips, but just her toes. She felt the familiar muscles in her legs stretch and she stayed in that position for a moment before lowering down to the flat of her feet. She moved her feet into first position and rose up and down for a minute before moving into second position and doing the same thing.

She couldn’t wait to be a mother. Wait. She already _was_ a mother. She couldn’t wait to have her daughter here. She and Jon hadn’t planned on having a baby so soon – she was just about to turn twenty-three and Jon was twenty-six – and she certainly was their whoops baby, but that didn’t mean that she wasn’t already loved so much. When Sansa and Jon had been at their monthly appointment, watching the now-familiar image of their daughter on the sonogram screen – and when the doctor was able to tell that they would be having a daughter, the couple both had tears brimming in their eyes.

(They still hadn’t decided on a name and everyone in their family had a favorite, but neither Jon or Sansa had heard one name that they had both absolutely loved.)

“Sansa, no!”

Sansa’s eyes had closed as she went through all five ballet positions, but hearing the exclamation, her eyes snapped open to see that her mother-in-law had come into the kitchen and was looking at her with abject horror on her face.

Now, Sansa loved Lyanna Snow. Absolutely loved her and she loved that Jon’s parents were so close – right next door – when Sansa’s own mother was a few hours away and Lyanna was always there when Sansa had needed a mother right then and there.

But… deep breath.

But now, it was driving Sansa absolutely insane. Lyanna was just always… _here_ and Jon and she were the same person. They wouldn’t let Sansa do _anything_. The other day, Sansa had been in the laundry room, pulling towels from the dryer and Jon had panicked at the idea of her carrying those towels up the stairs and had done it himself.

“We live in a three story house, Jon! The stairs are unavoidable!” Sansa snapped, grabbing the towels back from him.

“Maybe we should move you downstairs to the living room until after the baby is born,” Jon mused to himself and Sansa’s response to that was throwing the towels back in his face.

And Lyanna was the same. When she and Arthur came over for dinner, Sansa wasn’t even able to pull anything from the oven without Lyanna there, gently pushing her aside so she could do it for her. And forget about clearing the dishes or wiping down the table.

At first, Sansa had loved their worry and constant attention and thought it was so sweet.

But that love had ended about her fifth month and she was fully prepared to just murder everyone.

“Jon, do you know what your wife is doing?” Lyanna now called out, loud enough for Jon to hear from his writing room on the second floor.

“Nothing!” Sansa screamed before she could stop herself.

Sansa Stark didn’t scream and neither did Sansa Snow, but she honestly felt like she was ready to snap. She didn’t understand it, but she couldn’t control it. In the first trimester, her hormones and mood swings had been all over the board, yes, but she hadn’t known that would still be going on in the third.

“I am doing nothing!” She screamed and then without looking at Lyanna, she stormed from the kitchen, down the hallway and out the front door, hearing “Sansa?” from Jon on the stairs behind her. She had thought to grab her purse on the way out though where she was going, she had no idea.

She just… she needed to do something – preferably going to a place where she could breathe.

She shouldn’t have yelled at Lyanna like that. She knew that and as she walked down the street, expecting Jon to be running after her at any second, her anger and frustration vanished and she was left with guilt in the pit of her stomach and tears stinging her eyes.

Everything was just changing and she was so excited and happy for those changes, but ballet was something that never changed and she found comfort in it. Yes, she could no longer dance with this belly and a baby moving inside of her, but she could do her positions and what was the harm in that?

What was the harm in climbing the stairs – where their bedroom and the nursery was? What was the harm in cooking and baking? Jon even didn’t want her walking their dog, Lady, without supervision.

If it was going to be like this, this baby would be her first – and her last.

“Sansa?”

Approaching the corner mart, Sansa saw her father-in-law, Arthur, stepping outside, a bottle of soda and a candy bar in one hand, and he stopped when he saw her – without anyone with her.

Sansa wiped her damp cheeks. “Please don’t tell Jon and Lyanna,” she blurted out before she could stop herself or even think of what she meant. “I just… I can’t _breathe_.”

Arthur paused for a moment. “Are you alright?” He asked. “I mean, you’re feeling alright besides the not able to breathe thing which _is_ pretty serious?”

Sansa smiled a little at that and she nodded. “I’m alright. I just needed some fresh air without one of them breathing down my neck.”

“Understood,” he nodded his head. He then held took the candy bar and held it towards her. “Chocolate always helps and hasn’t this one been craving mint?”

Sansa laughed, feeling a fresh round of tears in her eyes from the man’s sweetness. “You keep those for yourself. I think I’m going to the movie house and I’ll get Junior Mints there.”

“The movie house?”

The idea had just popped into her head, but it certainly sounded like the best idea now.

“Could you please text me when you get there?” Arthur asked.

“I can do that,” Sansa promised. “And could you give me a half hour before you tell my husband?”

“If I can make it that long without Jon and Lyanna bullying it from me.”

Standing on her toes, Sansa kissed Arthur on his cheek and then continued on her way down the street towards the movie house. In Shadow Tower, there was the multiplex towards the main shopping district, but in hers and Jon’s neighborhood, there was the movie house – a single screen theater that showed older movies for a week-run at a time; classics and musicals.

As Sansa approached the marquee, she saw that this week, they were showing _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ and Sansa had no idea what that was, but she bought a ticket for herself.

After texting Arthur, and seeing the missed call from Jon, Sansa bought herself a box of Junior Mints and a bottle of water from the concession counter in the lobby. She then went into the theater – the lights having already been lowered and the movie about to start. There were just a handful of other people in the theater and Sansa took a seat for herself in the back row, knowing she’d probably have to go to the bathroom at some point – or two or three times.

The overture music began and Sansa watched the screen, wondering if she should google the movie real quick, but didn’t want to disturb anyone with her phone.

A girl was playing on a banjo, listening to a record, and suddenly, a hand appeared from behind and knocked her out. Sansa’s brow furrowed as she opened her box of Junior Mints, keeping her eyes on the screen. _Innocent Girls Sold Into White Slavery_ a newspaper headline on the screen announced.

What was this? Sansa asked herself. And she immediately thought of her close friend, Val, who had a fear – a fear she passed onto all of them – of being kidnapped and sold into slavery in Essos.

And then Julie Andrews appeared on the screen – as well as Julie Andrews’ singing voice. Oh, Sansa _loved_ the wardrobe.

She ate her candy and sipped her water and watched the movie unfold in front of her, still somewhat trying to figure out what the entire thing was about.

When the movie ended, all stress and the desire to explode was gone from her. She felt completely relaxed and she was actually smiling as the lights came up once again.

“Oh goodness,” Sansa gasped as she looked to her phone again. That movie was two and a half hours long! And Jon had called three more times!

Gripping the seat in front of her, Sansa pulled herself up, taking a moment for all of the blood to get flowing again and the baby girl rolled herself around inside of Sansa as if getting comfortable as well. Actually, for almost the entire movie, the baby had hardly moved; as if she had been listening to it and had actually been paying attention.

Leaving the theater, stepping out into the lobby, she was about to call Jon – and apologize for making him worry because _of course_ Jon had been worried for the past two and a half hours – but before she could, she stopped abruptly. On one of the benches against the walls of the lobby, her husband sat. He stood up at the sight of her and Sansa went to him with a small smile.

“Why didn’t you come and sit inside?” She wondered.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Jon breathed – as if exhaling at just the sight of her – and Sansa smiled as he slid his hands over her belly. “I’m sorry,” he then said before Sansa could, looking into her eyes. “I’m not sorry for worrying and wanting you and our daughter safe and healthy, but I am sorry for driving you absolutely batshit crazy.”

Sansa let out a slight laugh. “Did Arthur tell you to say that?”

“My mom,” Jon smiled a little. “Well, my mom yelled at me for agitating you and told me that it’s my fault that you stormed out.”

“Well… only _partially_ your fault,” Sansa smiled. “But don’t tell your mom that.”

Jon’s smile widened into a grin and his hands left her belly to slide his arms around her waist.

“I’m sorry for storming out and disappearing for a while. I’m eight months pregnant. That wasn’t smart of me and I shouldn’t have made you worry like that.”

He leaned in and kissed her. “Are you alright now? If you still need to yell at me, I’m here and go for it.”

Sansa leaned in for another kiss. “I really liked the movie. It was just what I needed. Just to relax and not think for a while. And I think she really liked it, too.”

“Yeah?” Jon looked down to Sansa’s middle with a smile. “I really like that name. Millie.”

Sansa looked at him, thinking on that for a moment. But a moment was all she needed.

“I think Millie is perfect,” she smiled, feeling tears in her eyes. And it was. Of all of the names they had thrown around since finding out they were having a girl, this was the first one that she actually loved. “I can’t wait till she’s here,” Sansa then said. “I’m so ready for her to be here.”

“Me, too.” One of Jon’s hands returned to her belly.

“And I can’t wait to _do_ things again like making our bed without you stopping me.”

“If you think I’m going to be relaxing once Millie is here, you’re in for a rude awakening,” he said.

Sansa looked at him with slightly wide eyes, having not even though that Jon’s craziness would be even worse when Millie was here, but _of course_ it was going to be worse. Why hadn’t Sansa thought of that until this very moment? How was she going to survive? She had barely survived these past few months without wanting to kill him and she loved her husband and didn’t want to kill him, but he just kept acting crazy and _tempting_ her.

“Oh, no,” Sansa groaned before she could stop herself.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I f-ing loved this chapter and I hope you liked it, too! THANK YOU!


	5. Chapter 5

…

Millie had just decided to spit up all over herself and Sansa when the doorbell rang. Sansa did her best to give her daughter a stern look, but failed as Millie looked up at her with a gummy smile, pleased with herself.

“I know you think that that was necessary, but it really wasn’t,” Sansa informed her. The baby just kept smiling and Sansa lifted her up, heading from her nursery to the bathroom. “Jon, can you get that? I have to clean up! Millie got both of us!”

A moment’s pause and she knew he was probably finishing typing a sentence on his laptop. “Yeah!” Jon called up from downstairs.

Lady was barking and Jon held her back as he opened the interior door and crossed the small vestibule to open the outer front door, grinning the instant he saw the arrivals.

“You’re here!” He stated the obvious.

“Let us in, Snow,” Pyp frowned on the top porch step. “Our Dorne blood is too thin for this.”

Jon grinned and stepped back, ushering Pyp and his wife into the house, closing doors behind them while telling Lady to behave herself. “Give me your coats,” he then told both of them. “How many layers are you wearing?” He asked Pyp with a smile as Pyp began unwrapping himself, handing Jon one thing after another.

“Not enough,” Pyp grumbled, finally handing Jon his final zipped hooded sweatshirt before spinning on him with a glare. “Who the Hell would want to live here? You come to Shadow Tower for skiing or snowboarding and then you get the Hell out. No one _settles_ here.”

“You’re in a pleasant mood,” Jon noted as he left to hang everything up in the hall closet. He returned a moment later. “Would you like something warm to drink, Nymeria?” He asked Pyp’s wife.

“That would be wonderful, Jon, thank you. Anything that isn’t too much trouble,” she then added.

“I want a brandy and make it a double,” Pyp said, still frowning as he showed himself to the living room.

Nymeria rolled her eyes and looked to Jon. “I’m sorry about him.”

“He was a diva _long_ before you came around,” Jon replied with a smile. “Let’s see what I can make you.”

She smiled and followed him down the hall to the kitchen.

Nymeria Sand was ten years older than Pyp and they had been married for almost a year. She had also been a ballerina in the Sunspear Ballet Company – her father, the famous male ballet dancer, Oberyn Martell, having been a premier with SBC years earlier. She was retired now and taught as an instructor within the company.

Pyp’s friends were, at first, surprised when he and Nymeria started dating, but they quickly all reminded one another that it had nothing to do with them. Yes, their group of friends was an exceptionally tight one – even spread throughout all of Westeros – but Nymeria was super nice and Pyp was super happy and that was what mattered. (And it wasn’t as if she was old enough to be his grandma, Grenn had pointed out.)

For only being around for only six months, Millie Snow had completely taken over the house; the kitchen no exception. Bottles and rubber nipples were drying on the rack next to the sink. There was her baby bouncing swing hanging in the doorway that led into the laundry room that Arthur had drilled up for her and one of the cabinets had been completely dedicated to her and the jars of baby food that she could now begin to eat.

“Here Nymeria,” Jon told her, pulling open a cabinet before turning and filling up the tea kettle with water. “Help yourself.” It was Sansa’s tea cabinet, boxes of tea all stacked neatly and facing forward so it could be read easily of which one was which.

Nymeria chose a bag of Blood Orange & Mandarin tea and Jon fixed the cup for her.

“Is she nervous?” Nymeria asked after taking her first sip.

“Pretending not to be,” Jon smiled a little. “It means the world to her that you both would come up here.”

Nymeria smiled and shook her head. “We really just wanted to see Millie and we were willing to ride a train for a day to do that.”

Jon snorted at that. “Not surprised. Just don’t tell Sansa. She thinks she’s special. ” He went into the dining room and Nymeria followed after.

In the living room, Pyp had changed into his practice dance wear on the train and had now taken off his jeans and sweatshirt, stretching in a pair of his tights and a tee-shirt. Lady was lying down on the floor, in front of the roaring fire, with one of her rawhide bones, but she really was much more interested in what Pyp was doing.

Nymeria went to sit on the couch in the living room as Jon went to the liquor cabinet.

“If I give you brandy, are you going to drop my wife because of it?” Jon wondered out loud.

“No. I’m going to drop her because she hasn’t lost all of her baby weight,” Pyp grinned.

“Pyp!”

The three turned their heads to see Sansa standing in the doorway of the living room, Millie in one arm and hold the stuffed bear, Corduroy, with her other hand and she looked absolutely aghast at Pyp’s comment. Sansa had also changed into her practice wear of black tights and a black leotard along with her pointe shoes. Her long hair was pulled up into a tight bun. Millie was changed into a fresh onesie.

“There she is!” Pyp exclaimed and came straight for Sansa, lifting Millie from her arms into his. “I can see that you’re making it harder for your dad to deny you,” he smiled, patting Millie’s hair of soft black curls.

“Jon has started calling her bushy top,” Sansa rolled her eyes at her husband, who just grinned at her, and then smiled at Nymeria as she stood and the two women moved to one another for a hug.

Jon came in from the dining room, holding two glasses of brandy, setting both down on the coffee table. He hadn’t had the time to drink over the past six months and he hadn’t really been wanting to drink with their newborn baby daughter, but he figured since they were staying home that night and Sansa and Nymeria weren’t drinking, _one_ glass of brandy wouldn’t hurt.

He took Corduroy from Sansa and set the bear on the couch. Six months old and their daughter was already terribly attached to the aging stuffed bear.

“Bushy top,” Pyp snorted as he tried to push down some of Millie’s uncontrollable curls. He then looked to Sansa. “You nervous?” He then asked.

“Of course I’m nervous,” Sansa frowned at him. No matter if they danced in two different companies now, Pyp would always be her pas-de-deux partner and always one of her dearest friends. “I’ve been off for over a year now and I’m going back in two days. I’m going to be a disaster.”

Pyp snorted again. “Sure, Sansa.” He didn’t hide his eye roll. “Do you know some of the instructors at SBC are _still_ mourning your leaving the company?”

“They are not,” Sansa instantly refuted as if she would know.

Pyp stepped to his wife and handed her Millie. He then went back to the open space between the couch, coffee table and fireplace. This would obviously be ideal on a dance floor and not on carpet, but they were working with what they had.

“I will say that the SBC has decided that the Shadow Tower Ballet Company is our sworn enemy now,” Nymeria smiled as she looked to Millie. Pyp was right. She was Jon’s daughter, without a doubt.

Sansa was using one of the shelves of the bookcase to stretch her legs and body. She then turned to Pyp as Jon and Nymeria got themselves comfortable on the couch. Millie leaned over, stretching her arms out towards him, and Jon picked her up, setting her on his lap, her back to his chest. He took Corduroy and Millie squealed for him, wrapping the bear that was about the same size as her with her arms.

“I’ve been really watching my weight and trying my hardest to get it back down to pre-Millie,” Sansa said.

“Sansa, I was just kidding,” Pyp shook his head. “You look amazing.” He then looked to Jon. “I’m telling her that as someone who’s about to hold her over my head.”

Jon smiled. “I’ve been telling her how amazing she looks for the past year.”

Sansa shook out her hands. Normally, she would smile and blush when her husband said something like that to her – no matter how long they had been together or how many times he told her such a thing, her cheeks still would turn pink – but right now, her stomach was tight in a knot and she could only think of one thing.

What if Pyp couldn’t lift her?

She had had a baby. She had gained weight during her pregnancy so the baby would be as healthy as she possibly could be, but – and she hated to admit it – as soon as Millie was born, Sansa began going back on her ballerina diet so she could lose the weight again.

But what if it wasn’t enough? She was going back to her company for rehearsals on Monday and what if she wasn’t as good as she was the year before? She loved Millie. She _loved_ Millie so much and would never, ever regret having her daughter, but after Millie – and Jon – there was ballet and what if she was twenty-four and it was already finished for her?

“You ready?” Pyp asked her, stopping her panicked thoughts in their tracks.

Sansa looked at him. She exhaled a deep breath. She and Pyp had gotten recruited to the most prestigious ballet company when they were both just eighteen, she reminded herself. She was Sansa Stark-Snow and she never said it out loud, but she knew Pyp and Nymeria weren’t wrong. Her dream had always been to be a professional ballerina and now, she was one of the most well known in all of Westeros.

She could do anything and she would even if she and Jon had a gaggle of kids.

“I’m ready,” she confirmed with a nod and another deep breath.

Pyp took position and Sansa pushed herself up on her toes in her pointe shoes. Turning towards him on carpet wasn’t ideal, but she and Pyp had practiced before on carpet and they could manage. And once she had turned to him, Pyp lifted her up with ease, Sansa’s body bending backwards over his head.

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment in the air, not feeling Pyp’s arms shake or hearing him grunt with the excursion. All she heard was Millie let out a squeal of laughter as she watched and her hands slapping together in a clap – Jon and Nymeria laughing as quietly as they could so not to disrupt the pair.

Sansa smiled to herself before Pyp gracefully brought her down again, returning her to her feet. This time, Jon and Nymeria clapped as Sansa spun towards Pyp, who was grinning at her. She threw her arms around him in a hug and squeezed him tight as he now laughed, hugging her back.

“Again?” He then asked, already knowing the answer.

Sansa nodded quickly. “Again.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't stay away from this world. THANK YOU to those still reading and loving this one as much as I do.


	6. Chapter 6

…

The hospital room wasn’t that large for the crowd that had gathered, but that hadn’t stopped any of them.

Millicent Giselle Snow was born in the middle of the night, right on time, arriving during a snow shower – which, in Shadow Tower, was nothing out of the ordinary. It would have been something if she had been born when it hadn’t been snowing. Sansa’s water broke and they had her bag packed and ready to go and Jon only almost forgot his shoes as they hurried from their house.

In the hospital, as they waited for Sansa to fully dilate, Jon made the phone calls. To his parents and to Sansa’s parents and to all of their friends, scattered throughout Westeros. Lyanna and Arthur would see to Lady before coming to the hospital. Ned and Catelyn had their own jet and with Sansa’s Uncle Benjen and her siblings, Arya, Bran and Rickon, they all flew to Shadow Tower Straight away. Robb, the oldest, was in Eastwatch, as was Sansa’s best friend, Ygritte, and both were leaving to drive to Shadow Tower and were expected to be there by the morning – if the weather permitted it.

Sansa wound up dilating much faster than even the doctor was expecting.

“It won’t always be like this,” he had smiled once he said that it was time to get Sansa into a delivery room.

He was right. From the time her water broke, only about five hours passed before their daughter was here, out in the world and screaming at the top of her little, healthy lungs.

“If our other children aren’t born this fast, I’ll never forgive them,” Sansa informed Jon and Jon grinned at that, leaning in to kiss her because he was married to the most amazing woman.

Millie was the first name they had chosen the month before and Giselle was her middle name for Sansa’s favorite ballet and the first ballet she had danced in professionally.

“Millicent?” Arya and Rickon both wrinkled their noses when they saw their niece for the first time and read her name card that was on the front of her plastic hospital bassinet.

“And what is wrong with Millicent?” Jon questioned them.

“Well, for starters, Jon, she wasn’t born an eighty-year-old woman,” Bran responded to that.

Millie was passed around to all of her grandparents first and then the others got to take turns. So many pictures were taken by everyone, all wanting to capture their granddaughter’s and their niece’s and their daughter’s first hours in this world.

There was so much talking and laughing; so much _joy_.

Jon found himself holding Millie again and looking at her with absolute amazement. He had _made_ this person. He and Sansa had made her from nothing.

Everyone joked – even Jon and Sansa did – and called her a whoops baby because they weren’t planning on having a baby for at least another five years. But she was here and just a few hours of her being here, Jon already couldn’t imagine her _not_ being here.

Catelyn took a picture of Jon smiling down at his daughter in his arms, tears in her eyes from just witnessing a new father with his daughter. But when she looked to the screen to see how the picture had turned out, Catelyn noticed something else that she had captured in the picture. Behind Jon and Millie, Sansa was in her bed, so happy, but so tired – and with very good reason because it didn’t matter how quick the labor had been. She had still given birth that night.

Everyone was so occupied with Millie, but not Ned. Ned was sitting in a chair next to the bed, leaning forward, holding Sansa’s hand and kissing her on the head; Sansa’s eyes closed and smiling in response.

The sweet moment captured in the photo made fresh tears build in Catelyn’s eyes. She wanted to go join them, but she held herself back. This was a moment between a father with his daughter who had just had her own daughter; his first grandchild. But Sansa would always be his little girl as would be Arya even after she got married and had her own children – if Arya decided to do either of those things.

No, Catelyn wouldn’t intrude. Not yet anyway.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always writing Sansa/Catelyn and I wanted a little Sansa/Ned scene and I saw something on Pinterest that inspired me for this scene. Just something short and sweet. THANK YOU for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

…

Sansa tries to breathe, tries to suck some desperately needed air into her lungs, and she wonders if a woman has ever died from her boyfriend going down on her before. That seems like something Val or Gilly would know; definitely Gilly, but she can’t remember her roommate and best friend ever mentioning it.

But how can she be expected to think when Jon is kneeling in front of her, one finger inside of her and the tip of his tongue drawing teasing circles around her clit?

How can she be expected to _breathe_?

She is leaning against the counter in the second floor bathroom of Jon’s house, both of them completely naked, her fingers tangled tightly in his hair, holding onto him since her knees feel as if they’re about to go out. A part of her doesn’t care if she falls as long as he keeps his head between her legs – right where it belongs. She is addicted to Jon going down on her. It… _he_ is the best at this. Not that she has been with any other boy to compare, but she doesn’t need to be with anyone else. This is something she just _knows_.

When she spends the nights at his house (and when he spends the night in her dorm room if Gilly is away, crammed on her twin bed with her), there are mornings when Sansa wakes up and feels him already down there, hidden underneath the bed sheets, her legs spread and draped over his shoulders, his beard scratching the inside of her thighs. And Sansa has decided that there is no better way to wake up then with Jon’s tongue inside of her.

He is so damn good with his mouth, she can’t get enough of it. Even when they are just sitting, watching a movie, or lying in one of their beds, making out, his mouth and tongue always makes her wet. Never has she thought that just kissing someone would turn her on so much, but making out with Jon is definitely always foreplay – foreplay that always leads to oral sex which almost always leads to sex that has her practically screaming as he takes her.

Sansa has never been in a relationship before and Jon can’t even be considered a boyfriend. He’s not a boy. Jon Snow is the first true _man_ she has ever dated. And what a man he is. He completely believes in a her pleasure coming before his own. Val has shared some stories with her and how she has had to fake with boys before and how Sansa can do it – if she ever has to do it. Faking an orgasm with Jon is preposterous though. There’s no reason for her to fake it. He knows exactly what he is doing and has already learned exactly what she likes; even before Sansa even knew what she liked.

“Jon,” she manages to gasp and her fingernails dig into his scalp, causing him to flinch slightly. “Sorry,” she then adds, forcing herself to loosen her fingers in his hair even though her nails dig into his scalp at least once while he’s doing this and he is more than used to it.

She cries out when Jon swiftly removes his finger from inside of her and gripping both of her hips in his hands, he buries his face so fully between her legs, the force of it almost pushes her up on her toes. His mouth covers her completely, licking and sucking, tasting her as if she is a piece of succulent fruit he can’t possibly get enough of.

Sansa tries breathing again, but it is impossible because now his hands are guiding her hips back and forth, forcing her to rub herself on his face and her fingers leave his hair to grip the bathroom counter behind her.

“Fuck my face, Sansa,” Jon murmurs right into her cunny, his mouth still glued to her, and Sansa nearly orgasms from his words alone.

“I’m going to fall,” Sansa whispers, still hardly able to breathe, and she whines in protest as Jon removes his mouth, pulling his head back so he can look up at her. She bites her lip, almost moaning now upon seeing her juices glistening on his skin.

“I will never let you fall,” he says and instead of an ache between her legs, she now feels one in the center of her chest.

She bends down at the waist and raking her fingers through his black curls again, she kisses him, tasting herself on his tongue and lips and she moans as his hand returns to between her legs, rubbing her a few times before two of his fingers enter her, her tightness instantly squeezing them, making his own groan vibrate into her mouth.

When they part, he gives her a grin and she watches as he then leans back, lying down on his back across the bathroom floor, the length of the bathtub, and she blushes, standing naked over him. Again, she has to wonder why they hadn’t moved this into his bedroom where his perfectly comfortable bed is empty, but Jon had wanted to take a shower together and one thing had clearly led to another. She can hear Dickon’s stereo blasting music – The Smiths tonight – so at least she knows that they can’t be heard.

“Get that beautiful cunny over here, Sansa,” he says and she laughs, shaking her head slightly.

She drops to the floor on her knees and crawls over his body, dropping a kiss to his stomach and then his chest, his fingers weaving in her hair, and she presses her lips once more to his in a deep kiss.

“I’m not finished with you yet,” he murmurs and again, she smiles, sitting up on her knees. She shrieks with laughter when his hands suddenly grab her ass and forcibly drags her up to his face, lifting his head off the floor, covering her with his mouth again.

She straddles his face, the inside of her thighs pressed to his ears, and she grips his hair in her fingers again as she slowly rocks herself over his mouth, his tongue so far deep inside of her, again, it is almost impossible for her to breathe. Jon reaches _that_ spot inside of her and God, he’s good. No. Not good.

He’s the best. And he’s all hers.

She feels his mouth… his tongue… his fingers still on her ass… one digit slowly circling her hole, making her gasp and tense, but only for a moment and then it makes her press herself harder down on his face. She definitely is not ready for anything like that – and probably never will be – but just the idea of it is enough to make her shiver. His nose is on her clit now and she cries out as his tongue rubs against the bundle of nerves at the same time and just like that, her orgasm rips through her, making her cry out his name so loudly, she thanks the Gods for The Smiths.

She couldn’t care less though, especially as Jon keeps his mouth over her, drinking her juices down, treating her like a rare delicacy that he cannot get enough of.

And when she really can’t take anymore, she forces herself to slide from his face onto the floor next to him, her back against the toilet, laying on her side, facing him, curling herself into a ball. Her body is still trembling ever so slightly.

He turns his head, grinning at her as if he knows, and she laughs, gliding a hand onto his cheek.

“Your beard is shiny,” Sansa teases.

He smiles. “I wonder why,” he says, rolling towards her, sliding a hand onto her hip.

She blushes and closes the distance between them, their fronts pressed together, and she slides a leg over his. “I am going to mop this floor for you tomorrow, but don’t you dare tell the others why I’m doing it,” she informs him and Jon laughs before leaning over and kissing her, letting her taste herself on his lips.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um... yeah. I guess I was in a mood lol Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

…

His rehearsal ran late and he all, but bolted from the theater as soon as the director cut them loose for the night. He would have tried to leave earlier, but it had been impossible. There were twelve parts, the play was in a single setting and it was almost two hours of constant dialogue. Jon hadn’t been able to just leave; no matter how badly he wanted to and how big of a night this was. Not to mention that he was Juror #8, a big fucking part.

Jon had been unsure of auditioning for the play even though many of his friends in the theater community had encouraged him to do so. For the past few years, he had taken a step back from the acting side of theater and had focused everything into the playwriting side of it; and had been pretty successful at that side, if he said so himself. But when the Dorne Theater announced that they would be putting on a production of _12 Angry Men_ , Jon had nearly choked. He had studied that play at White Harbor School of Fine Arts and he had always loved it. Acting in that play would be a dream role for him.

But still, he had hesitated. Sansa had put in her notice with the Sunspear Ballet Company. She had auditioned and won a spot with the Shadow Tower Dance Company and they would be moving there – much closer to all of their family and away from this hotbox after two years, having tried that long to make it work, but in the end, it had never felt like home to them and they missed the North. They were getting ready to leave. Now wasn’t the time to audition for a play that would delay that for almost another five months.

“Why not?” Sansa had asked when he had brought it up to his wife in the same breath he had already said he wasn’t going to do it. “Why won’t you audition?”

“Because,” he gave her a look and then his hand gestured around the living room. Nothing was packed away yet, but they had cardboard boxes already stockpiled in the corner, ready to go when they were.

“So, we’ll stay a little longer,” Sansa had shrugged. “Jon, audition. I’ve never seen you act.”

“Yes, you have.”

“Videos your mom has from when you were younger don’t count. I haven’t see you _live_ and in action.”

“But-”

“Jon, we’re not going to do this. You’re not going to give a thousand excuses because you know that I will be able to counter each one and I will win.”

Jon smiled a little at that and Sansa smiled, too. She lifted her hands and put them on his cheeks, gently holding his face so their eyes remained locked.

“We have months, Jon. I don’t have to report to Shadow Tower Company until the end of October. Audition. We moved down here for me. And now, we’ll stay here for you.”

At her words, Jon slipped a hand onto the back of her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss; a kiss that quickly developed into something much more – right there on the couch (which was always risky because their friends just _loved_ to walk in, but Sansa couldn’t say such things like that and have Jon not react.)

Sansa had one last show with the SBC; a limited special engagement of two weeks of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and Sansa had one of the starring roles – her first and last with the company.

And Jon was running late on opening night.

Thankfully, the Dorne Theater and the Sunspear Ballet Theater weren’t that far apart and Jon ran down the street as fast he could with his backpack on his back, weaving in and out of people crowded on the sidewalks. Fucking college kids here on spring break, taking up space, drunk and yelling before throwing up all over. It was only March. Why the Hell was it spring break already?

He was definitely not going to miss this about living in Sunspear when they relocated to Shadow Tower. No one except skier and snowboard enthusiasts went to Shadow Tower for their spring break – a handful compared to the hordes on Dorne beaches – and they stuck to the mountains and their hotels.

The front doors to the theater were all locked except one and Jon practically flung himself into the lobby. He was panting heavily as an usher approached him. Jon held up a finger, trying to catch his breath, while taking off his backpack, where his ticket was stuffed.

“Go on, Mr. Snow,” the usher recognized him. “Your family is already in their box.”

“Thank you,” Jon panted.

From beyond the closed theater doors, he could hear the swells of music. Fuck him. His wife’s first time she had a predominant role in her professional ballet career and he was missing it.

He took the stairs to the second level two at a time, the stair lights and the chandeliers dimmed. Another usher was about to stop him, but when he got closer and saw that it was Jon, he waved him on with his flashlight and Jon gave him a nod. He was glad the floor was carpeted so his hurried feet couldn’t be heard.

When Sansa had signed with the SBC, Ned and Catelyn Stark – to the surprise of no one – purchased their own private box at the Sunspear Theater and with Sansa’s first star lead, just about everyone was going to be there tonight. He knew everyone understood why he wasn’t with them yet. They were already making plans to see Jon’s own performance in two months’ time, but still, as Sansa’s husband, he should have been the first one in the box, waiting for everyone else to arrive.

At the door to the box, he knocked softly, hoping someone could hear over the music, and a second later, Arya was there, waving him inside.

“You missed her first scene, but she’s on right now,” she whispered to him, helping him take off his backpack. He had brought clothes to change into after his rehearsal, but there had been no time and he was still in his jeans and black tee-shirt.

He would change during intermission.

His parents, Ned and Catelyn, Arya, Rickon and Bran, Robb and Ygritte were all there as well as Pyp’s parents. Tonight was Pyp’s debut as well as Puck.

Everyone whispered hello to him and smiled and some gave him quick hugs. Catelyn was sitting in one of the front chairs and there was an empty one next to her – obviously being saved. She smiled at him and patted for him to sit down, which he did, nearly collapsing. Catelyn squeezed his shoulder and gave him a smile.

Jon smiled at his mother-in-law and then his eyes went to the stage below; to his wife.

And there she was. Sansa Stark-Snow as Titania on the stage, dancing among the other fairies, but the focus clear on Sansa as she turned and glided and skipped to the music, and Jon couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

As always, she was perfect; the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She had the attention of every single person in that theater, especially Jon.

She was just _so_ good. So graceful and talented. There were already murmurs that she was going to be one of the best in all of ballet. She was on her way. Sunspear was furious at losing her – and losing her to Shadow Tower of all places. He had spent too many hours now to count, watching her dance, and he still felt his heart tighten in his already-tight chest at the sight of her.

She finished her dance and applause rose as she gracefully exited, the scene bleeding into another.

“Whoo!” Both Arya and Ygritte let out, neither caring that it wasn’t necessarily proper.

“We’re all so excited to see your play in two months,” Catelyn leaned over to whisper to him.

Jon gave a small smile and shrugged. He hadn’t acted for a few years and he wasn’t trying to be self-deprecating. He already knew his performance wasn’t going to be anywhere the same level as Sansa’s. Even if he had won the lead in the play, he still didn’t know if he could actually pull it off.

“Don’t be stupid, Jon,” his mom said from his other side, having overheard and obviously able to read her son’s current thoughts. ”You and Sansa are both spectacular. It’s not a competition.”

Jon smiled at her and said nothing. No, it definitely wasn’t a competition because if it was, Sansa already won and he was fine with her winning because very few people could do what she was able to do. His wife was already the most spectacular person in the world and Jon knew that he was just the lucky mope she decided to love as much as she loved ballet.

…


	9. Chapter 9

…

For the past two hours, Sansa felt as if she wasn’t actually breathing. She had helped Jon rehearse lines at their home for the past month – Jon cast as Juror #8 – and he would work on memorizing his lines as Sansa sat on the couch, reading all of the other parts from the script. She knew the play almost as well as any of the twelve actors on stage. But still, she watched with unbroken attention, her eyes following her husband as he moved around the set on stage.

She had never seen him act before. She had seen old tapes that his mom had from his plays when he was younger and their college had their past productions online that could be watched so she was able to see him act that way as well. But Jon had been focusing on writing for the past few years and though Sansa had seen his plays, she hadn’t seen him _in_ a play.

And he was so magnificent. She knew he was and would be and yet, finally seeing it for herself – _live_ – she felt a warm bubble of pride expanding in her chest.

She knew he loved writing and he was so talented, and successful, at playwriting. His name was already known as being one of the best play writes alive today. Critically and publicly praised, everyone in the theater world knew the writer, Jon Snow, and every actor, actress and director wanted the chance to work on whatever his next play was.

But after tonight and the premiere of _Twelve Angry Men_ , they were going to know the actor, Jon Snow, too.

“That's right. Bifocals. She never took them off.”

“She did wear glasses. Funny. I never thought of it.”

“Listen, she wasn't wearing them in bed,” Jon, as Juror #8, began. “That's for sure. She testified that in the midst of her tossing and turning she rolled over and looked casually out the window. The murder was taking place as she looked out, and the lights went out a split second later. She couldn't have had time to put on her glasses. Now maybe she honestly thought she saw the boy kill his father. I say that she saw only a blur.”

Sansa knew, from this, that the play was almost finished. Just a page or two left in the play’s script.

And she was sorry for that. The auditorium of Dorne Theater was sold out that night for the show’s premiere. Sansa sat with their family and friends in the fifth row; center. They were also filling the sixth row. There had been talk of getting a few private boxes for their large party, but Sansa had said that she wanted to sit down below for her first time watching it. She didn’t want to be up in the box. She wanted to be in a seat in front of the stage.

After she said what she was going to do, everyone else followed suit and they all now sat in their seats, watching the play, as engrossed as Sansa; as the rest of the audience in that crowded theater that night. Her mother-in-law, Lyanna, sat to her left, and her father, Ned, sat to her right.

Jon had been so unsure of auditioning even though this particular part in this particular play was his dream role. Sansa had just finished her almost two year long career with the Sunspear Ballet Company and they were getting ready to move themselves up to Shadow Tower where Sansa would begin the next stage of her professional career with the Shadow Tower Dance Company. Jon didn’t know if they would want to stay in Dorne longer than they had to.

But Sansa knew her husband and she knew he _really_ wanted to audition; even if he said the complete opposition. And to be honest, Sansa wanted to see her husband act.

Jon always came to see her. Sansa had three shows a weekend with the SBC and for at least one of them, every weekend, Jon would be in the family’s permanent private box, watching her. Jon was so supportive of her ballet and the intense training and discipline in which she had to live her life because of ballet.

Sansa would never tell him this – already knowing that he would argue with her and never agree with her – but she, oftentimes, felt their marriage was horribly imbalanced.

When Jon was writing, Sansa made sure he ate – he sometimes forgot to do such a thing when he was truly struck with inspiration and would write for hours without stopping – or she would successfully get him away from his computer so he could take walks with her and their dog and get some fresh air, but Jon was so involved in her ballet, Sansa tried to do the same with him, but didn’t quite know how to do so.

Helping him rehearse for this play, reading through the script – over and over again – as they ran lines, Sansa finally felt like she was pulling her weight as Jon’s wife.

On stage, once the decision of the verdict was made, the jurors filed, one after another from the set, going off-stage, until Juror #8, Jon, was the only one to remain. He did his final actions, looking around the jury room, until he, too, left the set, closing the door behind him. There was silence that followed him as the stage lights then came down.

And when the lights in the auditorium, over the audience, slowly came up again, Sansa was the first on her feet in the whole place, clapping as hard as she could. She was smiling and felt tears in her eyes. She had a bouquet of flowers under her seat for her husband and she was so tempted to throw them on stage, but she refrained. She would give them to Jon herself when she could kiss him and tell him how utterly amazing he was.

When the curtain rose, and all twelve actors were on stage again to take bows, Jon stood in the middle and his eyes seemed to immediately find Sansa. They both beamed.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to write one more chapter to this one - a bit of a flash forward. THANK YOU to those who are reading this one!


	10. Chapter 10

…

“Oh my God!” Sansa exclaimed after she opened the front door and saw who stood in the hallway. She launched herself at her dad and Ned laughed, holding her and hugging her tight. “What are you doing here?” She asked as she then gave her Uncle Benjen the same greeting.

“We were in the neighborhood,” Ned said as Sansa stepped back so her dad and uncle could enter the flat and she closed the door behind them all.

Sansa didn’t ask about that. Her father was always popping up. He did the same thing when she went to school in White Harbor, always saying he had business or was just in the neighborhood, and she shouldn’t have been surprised that he would do the same thing now when she lived all the way in Dorne. Ned Stark liked to check on all of his children no matter where they were scattered or how old any of them were.

“Would you like something to drink? We have tea, water, Coke and Jon has beer,” Sansa said, looking into the refrigerator. “Or I could make coffee.”

The brothers looked at one another and without speaking, gave a nod.

“Tea,” Ned answered and Sansa took the tea kettle to the sink to fill it. “Is Jon here?” He asked, looking around the flat as if her daughter’s fiancé would magically appear in the flat with them.

“He’s down at the theater. Should I call him?” Sansa asked as she gathered three cups.

“No, Benjen and I came to see you first,” Ned answered.

That made Sansa pause and she turned to look to her dad, but Ned was at Jon’s writing desk in the corner of their living room, looking over the cork-board that Jon had hanging and where he pinned various articles, magazine or newspaper clippings or even random pictures he saw and encouraged his inspiration.

Sansa poured the steaming water into the teapot and added the tea leaves to the infuser before putting everything onto a tray. She went to the refrigerator again.

“Ygritte made some tomato and pesto flatbread pizza last night for dinner and there’s a little leftover. I can heat that up for you,” she offered.

“That sounds great, but let’s have tea first,” Ned smiled. “If everyone is back later, Benjen and I would love to take you all for dinner.”

Sansa laughed. “I’m sure once I text them all that you’re here, they’ll come running. Grenn always loves getting a meal out of you.”

Benjen was suddenly there and he took the tray from the counter for her, carrying it to the coffee table in the living room. Sansa followed him and she sat down on the couch. Ned sat down in the bear chair, careful that he didn’t sit on Corduroy, and Benjen sat next to Sansa.

“So, are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here?” Sansa asked as she poured out the tea into the three cups, handing them to her dad and uncle first before taking the last for herself.

Again, the brothers looked at one another before Benjen reached for a manila envelope that he had placed on the coffee table and which Sansa hadn’t noticed until then. Sansa looked to the envelope and she didn’t know why, but she felt almost scared to take it. Whatever this envelope was, her dad and uncle had come all the way from Winterfell to Sunspear to give it to her. But what could it possibly be?

Finally, she took it from Benjen and slowly, feeling both of them watching her, Sansa opened the flap and pulled the small stack of papers from inside. She read the first words on the first page and her eyes flew to look to Ned.

“What the Hell is this?” She demanded of him.

“Before you get angry immediately, take a moment, breathe and don’t bite my head off,” Ned said, leaning forward in the chair. “We love Jon. You know we love Jon. But this is the smart thing to do, Sansa.”

  
Sansa looked down to the papers again. _Prenuptial Agreement_.

“Sansa,” Benjen said and she turned her head to him. “We know Jon isn’t marrying you for money. And we aren’t thinking that your marriage will ever end in divorce.”

“But you’re nineteen,” Ned continued. “You will be twenty when you get married and yes, you’ll be a Snow, but you will always be a Stark.”

“And we don’t have to tell you that being a Stark comes with a lot of things,” Benjen added.

“You will be twenty-one when you are granted access to your trust fund. And then, me and your uncle won’t be around forever. Our money will be divided as well and that’s not even getting into your Tully grandparents and your mother,” Ned said.

Sansa knew all of that. She didn’t think about it, but that didn’t mean that she was clueless. It would be impossible to go through her entire life in the Stark family – living as they did – and not know about finances. The five Stark children had trust funds that were theirs when they turned twenty-one, granting them more money than the majority of people would ever see in their lifetimes. And her dad was right. Besides the trust-fund granted to Sansa, there was even more money on top of that. So much money.

She knew Jon knew about it. Not exact figures or dollar amounts, but he had seen the Stark family castle and all of the wealth that surrounded them. He _knew_ without knowing.

So maybe a prenuptial agreement wasn’t the dumbest thing to be talking about.

But Sansa saw something like this and it was like she was entering her marriage with Jon, already preparing for it to not work between them. Would Jon think the same? Would he think she didn’t trust him or was already putting an expiration date on their marriage and _them_?

“Just look it over. Talk with Jon,” Ned continued. “He’ll understand. I promise you he will understand.”

Sansa stared down at the top page of the paper and found herself nodding her head. She hoped her dad was right because although Ned hadn’t said such a thing, Sansa knew that her parents and uncle wouldn’t want her to marry Jon if he didn’t understand and she needed her family just as she needed Jon and a stack of papers shouldn’t make Sansa choose between the two.

…

As expected, when they found out Ned and Benjen Stark were in Sunspear, Jon, Ygritte, Pyp and Grenn were _more_ than happy to allow the men to take them out for dinner.

“Anywhere you kids want,” Ned smiled.

It took some discussing – and bickering – to decide where they would go out to eat.

“No, Grenn. We go there all of the time,” Pyp frowned when Grenn suggested one of their usual places, Sun Tavern, right down the street. “Not to take advantage, but Mr. and Mr. Stark are paying.”

“What about The Water Garden?” Jon suggested one of the more upscale restaurants in the city.

Ygritte responded to that by smacking him up the back of his head. “How dare you.”

She worked at The Water Garden and the last thing she wanted to do was go back there – whether she was working or not.

Finally, they decided on Old Palace, a moderately priced, well-reviewed popular restaurant of authentic Dornish food. They served plates, family style, so they shared dishes of olives, legs of lamb and spicy dragon pepper pasta. Pyp and Sansa shared their own portion of a leg of lamb and roasted sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts. For dessert, they all shared plum pudding and lemon cake.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked, leaning into her to ask the question, his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear.

Sansa sat next to him, quiet, eating her dinner and her eyes continuously looking to the engagement ring on her finger. She knew that he had taken Sam and Loras with him when he went to go buy it. “And not because Loras is gay,” Jon had said as if that was immediately what everyone would think (and it was). “It’s because his taste is good.”

“ _Impeccable_ , Jon,” Loras grinned at the party they had with their friends afterwards. “Though he did pick that one out all on his own,” he made sure Sansa knew.

It was a square cut green emerald with smaller diamonds surrounding it and in the band. When Jon had gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him, opening the box as he did, Sansa began crying. From him; from the proposal; and because it was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen.

She remembered looking at it that night and hoped he hadn’t spent too much money on it. They were both just starting out and yes, he had sold his first play, but he should be saving that money for the future; not spending it all on one ring.

Not everything in the world was about money, but some things were, but when she handed Jon those papers, would he think that she thought of nothing else?

At the question, Sansa broke from her thoughts and looked to him. The restaurant had their lights low and candles on the tables. The flame flickered in Jon’s eyes as he kept them on her. Their friends and her dad and uncle were talking, laughing, and none were paying attention to the couple.

“I’m alright,” Sansa gave a nod and even managed a smile.

Jon saw right through it – to no surprise of her. “No, you’re not.”

Sansa considered, for half of a second, of insisting she was, but knew that he would see through that, too.

She turned more in her chair towards him, exhaling a deep breath. Now wasn’t the time for this discussion, but no one was paying attention to them and Sansa had to say something. “When we get home, I need to talk with you about something.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No,” she shook her head quickly. “Just… I want to marry you more than anything, Jon. Please remember that.” She put her hands on his shoulders and couldn’t stop herself from squeezing them; as if needing to assure herself that he was still sitting right next to her (and he always would be).

“Alright. We’re past worried. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m-” she swallowed. “-sorry.”

When she showed him the papers, would he be angry? Hurt? Would he think she didn’t trust him? And if he refused to sign them, would that maybe show her that he _did_ care about the money more than her?

…

Everyone said goodnight to one another back at their apartment building. Ned and Benjen would be staying in the family’s penthouse because Ned and Catelyn owned the building and had their own private flats (that had been an entire _thing_ when Sansa, Jon and their friends finally found out that Sansa’s parents bought the building).

“Breakfast tomorrow?” Ned offered even though they were all stuffed from dinner.

“I’ll cook,” Ygritte volunteered.

If there was one meal she loved cooking, well, it was every meal, but Ygritte really loved cooking breakfasts and her friends had all had a hangover that had been magically cured from eating Ygritte’s fried eggs the next morning.

The instant Jon and Sansa were in their flat again, Jon closed and locked door behind them and spun around to look at her.

“Tell me.”

Sansa picked up the stack of papers still on the coffee table and clutched them to her chest, turning to him. Her heart was pounding and the lamb was not resting well in her stomach. Jon saw the papers and was looking at them, trying to see what they could be though they were turned away from him.

“Please, please want to marry me after this.”

Jon stepped towards her and finally, she turned the papers around, holding them out for him to take. He took the papers and like Sansa had a few hours ago, he read the top page. But unlike Sansa’s reaction, which had been one of instant anger, Jon’s was slightly different.

He lifted his eyes, looked at Sansa and smiled.

“Seven Hells, Sansa.” He shook his head and exhaled a deep breath. “Do you have a pen?”

Sansa let out a laugh that sounded like a sob; a sob of complete relief and a hint of surprise. “We technically need a lawyer.”

Jon laughed at that and holding the papers with one hand, his other reached out and snaking it to the back of Sansa’s head, he pulled her into a kiss.

…

Sansa's engagement ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * just a quick note before beginning - in Japan, children as young as five and six take city buses and trains, by themselves, to school. Japanese parents expect their children to show independence at a very young age and I drew inspiration from that.

…

True to her promise to her grandpa, when she and Jon had a son, Sansa named him Hoster. And like his older sister, Hoster Snow wasn’t _exactly_ planned. Sansa and Jon had joked that Millie was an whoops baby, considering she had come about ten years earlier than they originally planned to have their first child and Hoster had gained that nickname as well since Jon and Sansa had been planning on Millie to be their only.

And yet, when Sansa found herself to be late and she took the pregnancy test, seeing the word ‘PREGNANT’ in the small window, she didn’t necessarily feel surprised.

If she and Jon had been planning on having more than one child, Sansa would have preferred them to be closer in age – just one after another – but Millie was six and Hoster was going on five months old, but that was just for her to know. If Millie or Hoster ever asked such a question, Sansa would make sure that they knew that everything she and their dad did was absolutely planned.

They still lived in their long row house that had been a wedding present from Jon’s parents – and right next door to their own home – and Jon and Sansa moved their bedroom to the third floor so Millie and Hoster’s bedrooms were on the second floor with Jon’s writing room still in the windowless room between them. And though he had his nursery, at five months, Sansa still liked to have Hoster’s crib in hers and Jon’s bedroom.

Hoster sat in there now, sucking on his pacifier, as Sansa got herself ready for the day and once she was put together, she came to him, lifting him up with a smile and a kiss to his cheek. Hoster smiled at her from behind his pacifier and Sansa carried him to the changing table. He got a fresh diaper and a clean onesie with sharks printed on it. She and Hoster didn’t have anything special to do today – that she knew of – so there was no reason to get him completely dressed first thing this morning. Besides, after breakfast, she’d probably have to change him again.

As it had been with Millie, Sansa stopped dancing in her fourth month of pregnancy with the Shadow Tower Dance Company and then six months after giving birth, she would return. She had one more month left, but…

She hadn’t even told Jon that she was thinking this. She couldn’t even really admit it to herself.

Sansa didn’t know if she wanted to return; a thought she _never_ expected herself to _ever_ have.

She had just turned thirty. She had been prima ballerina for two seasons now – which was everything Sansa had been working towards since she was a girl not much older than Millie was and knew that she wanted to do nothing with her life except dance ballet. Theoretically, she had at least a couple more years in her dancing career, but honestly, Sansa didn’t know if her body could handle it.

Being pregnant and giving birth to two children had changed her body in ways that Sansa had worked hard to return herself to tip-top athetotic shape. And then there were the bunions, stress fractures, shin splints, dancer’s fractures and now, this past season, she had had sesamoiditis – which involved the sesamoid bones behind the big toe and she now was having trouble bending or straightening the big toe.

She had begun ballet lessons when she was five and began _serious_ ballet lessons when she was seven and it had been nonstop since then. It shouldn’t have surprised her that her body was beginning to really feel it all.

And if she retired from the company, that wouldn’t mean she would never dance again.

There was always teaching. Maybe the Shadow Tower Dance Company would hire her on as an instructor or maybe, Sansa would branch completely out on her own and teach little girls in her own studio.

That would also be a lot of work. Maybe she would take a couple of years off after retiring from the stage. What would that feel like? She honestly didn’t know what it would be like if she wasn’t dancing every single day. Of course, this was a big conversation that she and Jon would have together because she wouldn’t make any kind of decision before speaking with Jon about it.

But maybe, if she retired now, her legs and feet wouldn’t be complete disasters as she got older.

She held Hoster in one arm as she left the third floor, her other hand holding onto the bannister. Hoster let out a sigh from behind his pacifier – as if he was a little peeved that their day was beginning – and Sansa let out a slight laugh, kissing her boy’s cheek again. She would think that both of their children would inherit Jon’s black curly hair, but instead, both their daughter and son had Sansa’s red hair and striking blue eyes. Jon sometimes joked that he would love to know who the father was (which was rich because Millie _had_ looked like Jon when she was a baby. Amazingly so, but she had grown out of those looks and into Sansa’s).

But behind the looks, they were all their father. Hoster was quiet and oftentimes so serious for just a baby and Millie… well, Millie was an absolute sweetheart – a little on the shy side like Sansa could be – but nearly everything she loved seemed to come from Jon.

When she gave birth to a daughter, everyone just assumed that Sansa would be raising a little ballerina and yes, when Millie was a toddler, Sansa would bring her down to the theater; Millie spending so many hours in the wings and in her mom’s dressing room or costume fittings. She had her own pink leotard and little pink tutu and pink ballet slippers. When she was four, Sansa signed her up for beginning ballet lessons and while Millie had fun with ballet and loved her lessons, Sansa knew that her daughter wasn’t _in_ love with ballet; not like Sansa had been at five-years-old and even at five, everyone could see a spark ignite inside of her from the very first moment she saw her first ballet.

And truth be told, Sansa was just fine with her daughter loving ballet, but not being in love with it. For someone to pursue ballet, they had to love every single second – even as their body screamed in pain and their eyes flooded with exhausted tears. It took training, patience and discipline and it involved a passion for it all that couldn’t be taught.

Sansa didn’t want Millie to go through the things Sansa had put herself through to be at the top and Sansa never wanted Millie to feel any kind of pressure from being Sansa Stark-Snow’s daughter.

“This is Corduroy and he is my very best friend,” Sansa could hear her daughter now – her voice sounding as strong as anything – from the living room as she came down the next flight of stairs to the first floor.

Millie stood in the living room, in front of the fireplace, dressed in her school uniform with the beloved stuffed bear, Corduroy, in the crook of one of her arms. Jon sat on the couch, leaning forward, watching and listening. Sansa entered the room and sat down to Jon, settling Hoster so he sat on her lap. Jon turned his head to give her a smile, which Sansa returned, and both looked back to their daughter.

Today, in Millie’s first-grade class, it was her turn for show-and-tell, a _very_ big deal. It helped teach the children about presenting in front of the class, practicing speech and being an attentive listener. Jon had helped Millie prepare for today as if she a world leader, addressing all of the Westeros nation.

“He is also very old. Corduroy was a Christmas present for my mama when she was a little girl and then, when I was a baby, he was passed onto me. I like to take Corduroy everywhere with me and we do everything together,” Millie recited from memory. “He even shares my bowl of sherbet that I have each night. We don’t have ice cream because my mama is a ballet dancer and sherbet is a little better for her. But whenever I see my grandparents, they always make sure that Corduroy and me have plenty of ice cream.”

“Corduroy and I,” Jon corrected.

Millie nodded. “They always make sure that Corduroy and _I_ have plenty of ice cream. We both love strawberry the best. When mama is dancing in a ballet, Corduroy always comes with me so we can watch her dance. I know Corduroy loves watching my mama dance and I never want him to miss her. My daddy is a stage actor and he also writes plays and whenever he has a new play, Corduroy comes with me and we watch daddy act or watch his words.

“Corduroy has his very own book about living in a department store and searching for the lost button from his coveralls. It’s my favorite book and I always makes sure that Corduroy has lots of adventures so he never gets bored and wanders off. I am always going to keep Corduroy with me. Thank you for letting me show-and-tell today.”

“Perfect,” Jon smiled and Millie beamed. “You’re going to do great today.”

“It really was so good, Millie,” Sansa said, smiling, too. “Corduroy isn’t _that_ old though.” Jon snorted and Sansa gave her husband an elbow in the side. She handed Hoster off to Jon and stood up. “Come on, love. I want to make sure that you and Corduroy have a big breakfast for your big day.”

Millie went skipping after Sansa, following her to the kitchen, and Jon stood from the couch, lifting Hoster with him. Lady was already in the kitchen, chewing from her bowl of kibble, and she wagged her tail when she saw her entire family arriving.

As always, for breakfast, Sansa made Millie a bowl of oatmeal topped with whatever fresh fruit they were able to get at the market. Shadow Tower, being so far north, sometimes didn’t get the best options of fresh fruit, but cranberries were plentiful and that’s what Millie had this morning. Corduroy sat on a stack of books in the chair next to Millie as he did every other morning.

Jon came and with a kiss to his cheek, he sat Hoster down in his highchair and then went to Sansa, standing at the stove with her tea kettle. He came up behind her and as he lowered his face to her throat, he felt her face upturn in a smile.

“What are we doing today?” He asked.

“Well, I’m not sure what Hoster and I are doing today, but I know that you have some writing to get done.”

“I have a block.” He rested his forehead down on top of her shoulder and Sansa just kept on smiling.

“It’s not a block. It’s a refusal to write.”

“Psssh,” was Jon’s response to that and Sansa just laughed. The tea kettle began to whistle and Sansa took two tea bags from the box. “You okay?” He then asked, watching as she poured the two cups.

“Am I acting like there’s something not okay?”

“I just know you.” He lifted his head and took a step back so she could turn and they could look at one another completely. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Of course there is,” Sansa gave a soft smile at that and Jon smiled, too. “How about, during Hoster’s naptime, we watch _US_ and talk?” She suggested. All of these years later, since her freshman year at WHSFA, _US_ was still their movie – as strange as it might have sounded to other couples.

Jon leaned in for a kiss. “Sounds like something I’m already looking forward to.”

After breakfast and having Millie brush her teeth and Sansa pulled her red hair back into a braid, Sansa took a picture of Millie and Corduroy because she _had_ to take a picture. Jon carefully stowed Corduroy into Millie’s backpack so the bear’s head stuck out.

“I’m so glad you’re coming to school with me today,” Millie said to the bear. “You’ve never been to school before, Corduroy, or have been on the train. A new adventure!” But then Millie frowned at that and looked up at her parents. “Mama. Someone’s going to smash him on the train and he won’t be able to breathe.”

Sansa smiled, unable to help herself at her daughter’s great – _rightful_ – concern for Corduroy. “How about on the train, you hold your backpack to your chest so Corduroy can breathe and he can be with you?”

Millie thought that over and then smiled. “I’ll do that,” she agreed. Sansa kissed her head and then Corduroy’s head and Jon did the same.

“You’re going to do great, Bushy Top,” Jon told her – the nickname poor Millie had had since being a baby. But Millie was only six and she didn’t hate the nickname – _yet_.

“And we want to hear _all_ about it when you get home,” Sansa said before kissing her again.

Jon and Sansa stood on the top step of their home, Lady standing between them, and all three watching Millie as she headed down the sidewalk – Corduroy on her back – in the direction of the train station.

“Did you ever take Corduroy to school?” Jon asked, already smiling as if he knew the answer.

“I did,” Sansa smiled. “This will be his second show-and-tell, but Millie doesn’t need to know that. And Corduroy certainly won’t be the one to tell her.”

…

On the television in their living room, the tethers had just arrived, standing at the end of the family’s driveway, when Sansa finished speaking, all of her thoughts pouring out and her throat felt a bit dry and her body felt a bit tight; as if she had been talking for such a long time now without stopping. Jon hadn’t interrupted her once. He had sat next to her, listening to every word in silence.

“I don’t know what to do. If I’m not a ballerina… who am I?” Sansa asked.

She had always used ballet to describe herself. It was terrifying – to be thirty and have absolutely no idea who she was without it. Her _entire_ life had been tethered to ballet and now, she was very seriously considering cutting that tie? Maybe she was thinking of retiring too soon. Her feet, legs and joints could handle another couple of years… couldn’t they?

“You’re Sansa,” Jon told her, his arm around her shoulders. “And I’ve always thought you were one of the most amazing people I ever met with or without ballet.”

Sansa nearly laughed at that. “You hated me when you first met me,” she felt the need to remind him.

“I didn’t _entirely_ hate you,” he argued and that just made her laugh. He leaned in and gave her a soft kiss; the exact kind of kiss Sansa needed in that moment. “I’ll be on your side no matter what you decide, Sansa. Retire. Not retire. If you retire, we’ll figure it out. It’ll be like our next chapter.”

Something about those words made Sansa look at her husband and all of the tension in her shoulders seemed to slowly begin to disappear. A smile began to form. “Our next chapter,” she echoed.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end. 
> 
> Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart to everyone who read and enjoyed this story and this whole world.


End file.
